The Policy Nexus: When Commerce Erases Community

Metanoia, Maps, and the Courage to Save 2,200 Homes in San Jacinto.

We often speak of the housing crisis as if it is a weather event—something that just happens to us, driven by market forces we cannot control. We see the encampments in the San Jacinto riverbed, we cheer for the $12 million grants to clear them, and we think we are solving the problem. But while we are looking at the riverbed, we are missing the map. In my work as a Doctor of Public Administration student, I study the gap between digital governance (the paperwork) and on-the-ground reality (the people). Recently, I found a gap so wide it threatens to swallow the future of our city. It is called the Stoneridge Commerce Center
The Fear Equation: Why We Freeze. Before I explain the project, I want to talk about why we usually ignore these things. Harvard Business School professor Ranjay Gulati argues that fear = uncertainty + loss of control. When developers drop a 500-page Environmental Impact Report on a community, they are counting on that fear. The jargon creates uncertainty. The bureaucratic process makes us feel a loss of control. The result? We freeze. We assume the deal is done. We stay silent because the "Submerged State"—the invisible machinery of government—feels too big to fight. But today, I am choosing to handle that fear. I am choosing metanoia—a profound transformation of heart and mind—to stop freezing and start speaking. The Great Erasure. For years, the original StoneRidge Specific Plan (SP 239) was on the books in San Jacinto. 

It was a promise: a plan to build 2,236 homes, including parks and open space, and to dedicate land to the Housing Authority for affordable units. It was a blueprint for a neighborhood. But a new proposal, currently moving through the Riverside County Planning Department, seeks to erase that neighborhood entirely. According to documents I have reviewed, the new "Stoneridge Commerce Center" (Amendment No. 1 to SP 239) proposes replacing those 2,236 homes with 7,350,000 square feet of light-industrial land uses—essentially, massive warehouses—on 388.5 acres. The trade-off is stark: Old Plan: Over 2,000 families get a home. New Plan: We get 7.3 million square feet of concrete tilt-ups. And the invisible cost? By rezoning this land from residential to industrial, we are quietly deleting the affordable housing set-aside that was part of the original deal. We are trading a future community for a logistics hub. 

The Spring Watch.
The developers likely hope this change happens quietly. The public comment period for the environmental report ended back in March 2024. They are currently in the quiet period, responding to comments and preparing for a final hearing. But we have learned that this project is tentatively scheduled to go before the Planning Commission in the spring of 2026

This is not a dead end; it is a head start. We have three months. Three months to ask the uncomfortable questions. Three months to demand that the city and county explain how they plan to meet our state-mandated housing goals if they delete 2,200 planned units from the map. 

Choosing to Speak Anyway, I am sharing this not to scare you, but to empower you. The "Fear Equation" only works if we remain uncertain and passive. I am walking into a space that wasn't built for me—the complex world of Specific Plan Amendments and TEFRA hearings—and I am choosing to speak anyway. I am asking you to look at the map with me. If we want a San Jacinto that houses its seniors, its families, and its future, we cannot just sweep the riverbed. We have to save the neighborhood.